Journal 13573
by Lawral
Summary: McGee is finally ready to let go.


_Let me just start by saying that this is 1.) a waste of time and 2.) the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard in the years that I have received counseling at this particular place. This was never my idea; my parents have always worried and, I'm not sure but I don't expect they believed I would pass FLETC, once I joined NCIS their worry seemed to magnify times ten. I don't understand what the big deal is, yea so  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>For the last 20 years there has been one day that I have never done anything. No school, no work, nothing. The list of people who know the reason and understand are those in my family. I remember the final for my fencing class in college just happened to land on this one day. Had it not been for skipping school that day, I probably wouldn't have failed. Not that I'm placing blame, well actually I am. I blame<br>_

* * *

><p><em>I once heard someone ask Gibbs if I was old enough to be an NCIS agent. Truthfully, I had never intended to join NCIS. I spent the beginning of my youth aiming to be a Chemical Engineer. Those plans changed when I was ten years old. He had changed those plans. See, Sarah and I aren't just six years apart; we share a secret. I guess if you did a deep enough search you'd find that it isn't really a secret. Nicholas was the one who had wanted to be an NCIS agent. Nic was two years younger and much more outgoing, kind of like Sarah. While I was taking about an old radio I had found in the basement, Nic was outside with our father going over plans to invade the enemy family of squirrels that had been attempting to make our attic home. I had never seemed to fit into my place in the family; I was the oldest and had a brain but my little brother was the one who had the talent and looks. <em>

_Nic and I were close, despite our differences. In an odd way, I looked up to him more than he looked up to me. He was sure of himself in almost everything he'd done. Tony sort of reminds me of him, most days. At the age of 8, he was pretty popular as second graders go. The teachers liked him, the girls liked him. That was probably the most I envied about my little brother, his way with the girls. Even now I still have that problem. _

_Nicolas was eight when he was killed. I didn't expect to see anyone wearing the letters NCIS until Nic was an agent. I had no idea that someone in the arms forces could be abusing their status in order to move drugs. Dad and his friends were our only connections into the Navy and I guess that he did a good job at shielding his kids from the rouge officers. Nic had been riding his bike around the base we lived on while I was busy working on a project for school. Sarah had gone with my mother for groceries and would be back soon. Our neighbor Lt. Deere had always loved watching us for Mom's short trips to run errands. I can remember the horn sounding and the loud crunch; what I don't remember was how I ended up outside with my brother laying in my arms. _

_So I guess what I'm suppose to be talking about was something that changed me the most from my loss. Well let's see. I guess you would think the obvious choice would be my change in career. It was after Nic's death that I became even more dedicated in school and eventually graduated High School early and went on to college. My parents had put me in counseling after Nic's funeral. The therapist said that my enhanced focus on school was just my way of dealing with the loss of my brother. In a way, she was right. I had a new dedication: to become a Special Agent with NCIS. At first I wasn't sure if I'd made the right choice; at Norfolk I had mostly done desk work. Then I met Gibbs. He reminded me of my father in ways: taking charge and delegating jobs for Tony and Kate. I, of course, didn't disappoint in giving the man a reason to excuse me. Somewhere along the lines, I grew to really enjoy the job. It was dangerous, yes, but it gave me a feeling of accomplishment; I had saved someone's son or brought the killer of someone's brother to justice. Each case makes me think of Nicholas and how perfect it would be if he was next to me, working beside me in the job that he had always wanted. But then I realize, I do have a brother beside me; working troubling cases with me, picking on me about my inexperience. Sure, Tony is technically older than me but he has become the brother I lost. _

_Yes, what has changed the most about losing my brother- gaining another family in the people I work with. Tony, Gibbs, Ducky, Ziva, Abby, even Palmer- they're my family. _

Tim looked over the journal entry he'd spent hours writing, releasing everything that was in his mind and heart. He chuckled slightly as he was reminded of how it felt like school, being given and assignment and working hard to complete it. Normally he kept his journal entries to himself. They weren't even for the therapist; it was just her way of allowing Tim to express his feelings so he could look back and see everything that was going on without berating himself. Today was different. He'd brought that journal entry with him specifically. He'd never be able to let go but he could move on.

He climbed out of his car and began to walk across the grass. Driving all night to get to this place had been the hard part, it always was. He'd have to drive all night again in order to get back to DC before work in the morning but he didn't care. This was the one day that he kept to himself. A day he could look back and remember all the lost moments and special secrets of a childhood cut short.

"Hey Nic," Tim said as he approached the small headstone. "I know that we kind of agreed on no gifts but I brought you something this year. It's not exactly what you think but I know that you'll understand. See, if it hadn't been for you-"

He paused and looked down at the folded paper in his hands. His parents had already been there with a fresh bouquet of wildflowers. Tim tucked the journal entry into the flowers and looked at his brother's name once more.

"Happy birthday, Nicholas." Tim whispered before turning slowly and returning to his car. Somewhere in the cold air between his brother's grave and his idling car, Tim felt a warmth envelope him. A small smile grew on his face as he looked up at the sky and mumbled, "I love you, too."


End file.
